About Me

I thought my fairytale had come true when I married the man of my dreams - and in many ways, it has. But after 16 cycles of hope and disappointment followed by a trip to see a consultant and three failed ICSI attempts, we have a diagnosis of both severe oligozoospermia and diminished ovarian reserve to contend with, and wonder whether we'll ever get a chance to complete our family.

The clinics - dramatis personae

The old clinic - where we had ICSI #1 (October 2009) and ICSI #2 (November/December 2009)

Mr No Nonsense - the consultant, a man of few words who doesn't like to sugar the pill

Nurse Perfect - my favourite nurse

Nurse First Time - the nurse I saw on our first appointment, who is my second favourite

Nurse Not Quite - the other nurse

The XXXX clinic - where we had ICSI #3 in 2010

Mr Miracle Worker - the head consultant

Mr Greek God - the consultant we saw on our first appointment

Mr Wonderful - the consultant we saw most often during ICSI #3

Aussie Girl - the nurse we saw on our first appointment

Monday, 2 August 2010

The WUB drug routine

Thank you so much for all the prayers and good wishes - and please keep them up!

As promised, here's a little list of the drugs that I'm on between now and next Friday (and hopefully some of them at least for a bit longer, if all goes well). I have alarms set on my iPod to tell me when to take them all, so let's work our way through the day...

0600 - First dose of Ritodrine - half a tablet to be taken at six-hourly intervals throughout the day (and night). This is a drug which is used to prevent uterine contractions, and when prescribed at XXXX clinic it's used only during the two week wait. That's good, because it gives me a slightly shaky feeling and I think is also what's causing the indigestion that I'm getting.

0655 - First dose of Clexane -20 ml subcutaneous injection which stings a bit and leaves peculiar perfectly round purple bruises, about the size of the head of a screw. This is a blood thinner which is used to increase the flow of blood to the uterus and try to ensure no clots are formed.

0845 - Steroids - two tablets, to be taken with or immediately after food. Yesterday they switched me from Dexamethasone to Prednisalone, but Mr Miracle Worker reviewed my file this morning and put me back on Dexamethasone from tomorrow. Both are used to damp down the immune system and try to prevent it rejecting the embryo as a foreign body, but apparently Dexamethasone is better at negating the effect of natural killer cells.

1200 and 1800 - Second and third doses of Ritodrine. More shakes and heartburn. I also take a 75mg aspirin at noon, as I've been told to take it some time between the Clexane jabs.

1855 - Second dose of Clexane, and the big gestone injection - the dreaded progesterone in oil. 100 mg a day, injected intramuscularly with a 1.5 inch needle - OUCH! I was told I could do it into my buttock or thigh - given the difficulty of contorting myself to reach the right part of my buttock and the danger of hitting the sciatic nerve, I've opted for the thigh. Having read various things about it, this is how I'm doing it at the moment: when I start getting everything ready, I pop the two phials of gestone into my bra to warm them up. While doing my Clexane jab, I balance an ice cube against my outer thigh to numb it. I then whip the phials out of my bra, make up the jab, stab the needle into the numb part of my thigh and inject slowly (having pulled up on the plunger to make sure I haven't hit a vein). As soon as I take the needle out, I massage the area gently for a couple of minutes and then apply a warm wheat bag to it. The injection itself isn't too bad, but I've had a bit of a dead leg afterwards both times I've done it so far. Anyone want to tell me that's going to improve...?

0000 - Final dose of Ritodrine.

And apart from that, it's just the litre of milk, 2-3 litres of water, prenatal vitamins and regular protein snacks - and even more regular prayer.

I'd like to think that all this extra support, and all the hoops I've jumped through to get to this stage, can't fail to lead to my long-awaited BFP - but of course there are plenty of people who've gone through even more treatments and jumped through even more hoops and still never got there. And so I veer between quiet optimism and a firm belief that this can't succeed, because I just can't imagine what success would be like after more than two years of failure.

3 comments:

Success seems like a mirage doesn't it? It certainly is an intense regime you're on. I've not heard of the Ritodrine being used before (you are going to make me google up a storm now!).Quiet optimism is perfect for now. I am so hopeful for you that these extra measures will make a great difference come beta time. Thinking of you, sorry i've been a bit awol recently so I haven't commented as much as I'd have liked. But you're definitely in my thoughts and I hope you have some lovely distractions planned for the next few weeks.xxx

You are one brave woman - that is a heck of a regimen and the injections do indeed sound nasty. However, I also think that it's wonderful that you are being given the best chance possible and I like the term quiet optimism. Quiet optimism and intense prayer. I'm with you on both XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX